Discipline Down Under (10 page)

“Did ya enjoy the trip, Peggy?” he asked, as she entered her hotel room, put down her things and pulled her phone out of her purse. Those things and her camera were all she’d brought with her on her outing to get a photo of that finch. Tripp had provided everything else.

“Yes. It was… much more than I could have expected.”

Tripp cleared his throat, unwilling to say what he really wanted to say. “I’m glad it was
grouse
. Take care, now.”

“About the fee…”

“Yer father and I already squared on that. No worries for ya.”

“Thanks.”

She looked like she was going to cry, so he held his arms out for a hug. Peggy hurried over and buried her face against his chest. “Hush now,” he said, trying to soothe her.

After a moment, she disengaged and took a step back, wiping her eyes with her fingertips. “I’m sorry.” Peggy took a deep breath, a steadying breath, and went on. “Thanks, Tripp, for a wonderful experience. If my pictures get published, I’ll… Hey, I don’t know how to contact you with good news.”

“Yer dad has my office number.”

“Oh… Oh, right. Okay. If I get published, I’ll let you know. You can, uh, ‘throw another shrimp on the barbie’ for me.” Her smile was weak, but she was making an effort.

He grinned. Tripp didn’t feel good about leaving her either, but it had to be done. “Will do. So long, sheila.”

“So long, mate.” The door closed as he was walking away.

* * *

Several days had passed since their parting, and Tripp had done his best not to mope. Victor teased him unmercifully, and when he ran into Nigel in town, Nigel tried the nudge-nudge-wink-wink routine on him too. Was it so obvious that he and Peggy had been intimate together?

Tripp greeted some chums and bellied up to the bar at the Howling Dingo, ordering himself a pint. The place was busy as it usually was after working hours. Guides and bush explorers hung out there. It was a rough crowd, but Tripp knew nearly everyone who frequented the place and it felt comfortable.

As he stood there, his friend Gary Minor mentioned something that made Tripp’s blood run cold. “I saw Bruce and Darcy Fenton head downriver with a tidy
seppo
, yesterday. All by herself, she was.”

While it wasn’t unusual for the Fenton brothers to run their game on the American tourists, something about this situation sounded ominous. A female American tourist, all by herself, boating downriver? Who else would that be other than Peggy?

“I’ll buy the next round, blokes,” Tripp said to his friends. “What was that about the Fentons?”

“Thanks, mate,” Gary Minor said. “Yeah, well, like I was saying, the Fentons got themselves a ripe one. Pretty little girl, blond hair and fresh as a daisy. All by herself, and them in two rickety-ass canoes. It’s bad mojo, if ya ask me.”

That did sound like Peggy, and yes, it was certainly a bad situation. The Fentons were known to be charlatans, and dangerous ones at that. They’d come in contact with rangers and the law more than a few times, and were currently operating without a license. Not to mention the fact that there were isolated pockets of
salties
downriver. “When did they leave?”

“Yesterday. Why? What’s it to ya?”

“Aw, nothing. I think I know the girl, that’s all.”

Gary frowned and the other guides grumbled. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to be the bearer of bad tidings.”

“No worries,” Tripp said, trying to casually pay the tab and get the hell out of there. He had to get downriver and get Peggy out of that situation. “Gary, yer boat still weather?”

“Yeah. Got the engine worked on. Right as rain now.”

“Willing to take me down the river?”

“When? Tomorrow?”

“Today. Right now.”

Gary pushed his Akubra back on his head an inch. “Going after the Fentons, mate?”

“That was my idea, yeah.”

“Go get yer rifle and meet me at the boat. We won’t get there till tomorrow, but we’ll make our best try for early afternoon.”

“I know it could be dangerous, Gary…” Tripp began.

“Hell, Tripp. I own ya one for bailing me out of the clink last year. And those Fentons did a rotten thing, taking that girl all by herself.”

Tripp pressed his hat down and finished his pint. “Meet ya there.”

* * *

The first night on the river had been fairly uneventful, though Peg was getting more and more uncomfortable as the second night approached. The brothers were a smarmy pair and she felt very vulnerable with the two men. When she’d first met them, they were clean and tidy, smiling, with good manners. But as the hours progressed, they got dirty and didn’t wash, their jokes got more crude, and their manners went out the window. They treated Peg like a helpless fool. And maybe she was. Her life hadn’t trained her for these situations. She realized how sheltered and pampered she was and it was a watershed moment.

Darcy was the scariest by far, with a scruffy face and missing a tooth, his singlet stained and wet in spots from sweat. Once they were away from town, he’d removed his over-shirt and now his arms were bare. They were beefy arms, but more fat than muscle. Still he looked strong when he was paddling the canoe he shared with her.

His brother, Bruce, was a little better, but maybe that was only because he trailed in the second canoe with the supplies. Peg had less contact with him during the days, which was good, since he had a creepy way about him, as though he was hiding something.

While she was with them, however, she tried to ignore their questions about her having a boyfriend, or why she was alone. They were too personal and leading. She felt their eyes on her in an insulting way and it made her hair stand on end.

The animals were wonderful, however. She’d gotten some great shots of all kinds of critters, including some really enormous crocodiles. The Fentons had warned her about them, saying that they were dangerous and she should stick close to the brothers. They both carried rifles and didn’t look like they’d hesitate to shoot a croc if it got threatening.

Birds were everywhere, and Peg even got some shots of unusual ones. Before that second night, she’d decided that the discomfort of canoeing with the Fentons was worth it, when she considered the photos.

But that second night, they stopped on a sandy bank on the river, and set up camp not very far away from the water. Peg thought it seemed dangerous to be so close to where the crocs made their home.

“Um… are you sure you want to camp here? I mean, isn’t this kind of close to the river?”

“Now, honey,” Darcy said. “Ya just leave the details to us. We’re experts at this.”

“But…”

Bruce licked his full lips, leaving them wet, shiny, almost like drool. “Hush now, Peg. This ain’t yer call.”

Peg decided to be a little assertive. “But I don’t feel safe here.”

“Ya got us big men to take care of ya,” Darcy said. “We won’t let ya get et by a croc.” He started setting up a small tent. “If ya want, ya can bed down in this here tent with me. I’ll watch over ya.”

“Uh, no. Thanks. I’ll be fine in my own tent.”

“Ya sure?” Bruce asked. “If ya don’t think Darcy is gonna do the job, I’ll be happy to take his place.”

“No, really. I’ll be fine.” Peg wished she had a gun at that moment. She could see where this situation was headed and it wasn’t pretty. She was alone on the river with these two scary guys, completely at their mercy.

“Fine and dandy,” said Darcy. “But if ya change yer mind, I got something more to offer.” He grabbed his crotch and made a crude gesture. Bruce broke out in laughter, but Peg took a step back, truly alarmed now. They were more than a day downriver, miles away from civilization. No one would hear her scream for help. Taking this expedition had been the worst mistake she’d ever made. After spending so much time with Tripp Ruf, she’d been cavalier about taking care of herself and being alone with men.

“Stay away from me,” Peg said, hating the quaver in her voice.

Bruce grinned, but it was more of a leer. “Ya got nothing to worry about, sheila. We’ll take good care of ya.”

“I want to go back.”

“Can’t do that, can we, Bruce?” Darcy asked. “Ya paid for three days there and three days back, and we got to fulfill our contract. Can’t have anyone saying we’re shirkers.”

Bruce was shaking his head, his lank brown hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. “That’s right. We got our reputation to consider.” Somehow, they both found this hilarious, and howled with laughter.

Peg eyed a rifle that sat near the middle of camp. If she could get to it, maybe she could make them take her back to Katherine. Unfortunately, Darcy saw where her gaze went, and he sauntered over and picked up the gun. “Can’t be leaving that out and about. It’s a dangerous weapon. Why, a person could get hurt!”

Bruce nodded, and took more supplies out of one of their crates. “Let’s eat and then we’ll talk about what’s safe and what’s not.”

“Fine with me.”

“I’m not hungry,” Peg said, stepping further away from them. Her only option was to stay clear of them, wait until they were asleep, and steal a canoe. Paddling it upriver would test her, but she had no choice. She had to get away.

“Got to eat,” Bruce told her. “Got to keep yer energy up. We might be getting some exercise tonight.”

Darcy though that was funny and chortled.

Peg desperately wondered what she could do. She was in danger, and it wasn’t from the crocodiles.

* * *

Tripp was impatient, wishing the boat motor was more powerful, Gary less grim. They both knew that Peggy was in a bad situation, and Tripp’s anger at her vied with his worry. He felt like screaming with frustration, but he ground his teeth together and kept his own counsel.

“What’s yer stake in this, Tripp?” Gary asked him as they traveled down the river after dark. It was a dangerous time to be moving through the water, but their haste was necessary.

“Nothing, really. I guided her in the bush for a few days. I don’t know why, but I feel a little responsible for her.”

“Aha. Don’t know why, eh?”

Tripp sighed. “She’s hard not to care about. Peggy’s got a little-girl way about her. It makes you want to protect her.”

Gary rubbed his face, his bristles making a brushy noise. “Well, the Fentons ain’t got themselves too deep in shit before. A few brushes with the law, but nothing very serious. I don’t think they’ll press their luck.”

Tripp wasn’t so sure. “She’s out there alone with them, Gary. Unprotected. Vulnerable. They might abuse her and then throw her in the river for the crocs. ‘A boating accident; so tragic.’”

Gary wouldn’t meet Tripp’s eyes when he answered. “I suppose it’s possible.” He guided the boat toward the shoreline and cut the power. “We can’t go on more tonight, Tripp. The river has enough snags to put us out with the wildlife. We’ll camp here and start out again when the kookaburra cackles. Okay?”

Tripp didn’t want to stop. Left to his own devices, he’d continue through the night, uncaring about the danger that represented. This would be Peg’s second night with the Fentons, and anything could have happened by now.

He wondered if he could wait until Gary was asleep and make off with the boat. It would be a dirty trick to pull on his friend, but some things took precedence over being safe. Gary would be fine on his own until Tripp came back. Tripp would leave the supplies with him. Gary had a rifle and was an experienced bushwalker.

Tripp disembarked with Gary and waited until his friend was asleep, then wrote out a note and made his way back to the boat.

Gary, I can’t leave her there with them any longer. Stay put and I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon. They can’t be far ahead. I’m sorry to leave you like this, mate. I’ll make it up to you. I hope you understand. Tripp

* * *

Peg huddled in her tent, unwilling to entangle herself in her sleeping bag, and equally unwilling to go to sleep. The Fentons were out in the camp, getting drunk she thought. They’d had something brown in a bottle and were sipping it through the evening. No more crude gestures or rough innuendo, for the time being. Peg was hungry, she was tired, and she was scared silly. At any moment, one of them could decide to take advantage of her. It was too terrifying. And a thought kept running through her head:
I’m going to be raped and killed and I’ve done nothing with my life. It’s been meaningless. I am an utter failure.

The brothers talked about some TV show they were missing for a while, but soon the talk turned to her.

“Who’s first with the
seppo
?” It was Bruce’s voice, slurred and slow.

“Me. I’m older.” Darcy sounded more sober.

“I’ll wrestle ya for it.”

“You’re too drunk to win. Me first. You can hold her down.”

“Fuck, Darcy, ya always get to be first.”

“Let’s get her and have some fun. Doesn’t matter who goes first, so long as we both get a
root
.”

There was a pause. Maybe Bruce was thinking it over. “Yeah. Right. Okay.”

Footfalls sounded closer and closer to her tent, and Peg squeezed herself into a corner. Maybe if she jumped out at them and came up fighting, they’d back down, considering her too much work. If she could just get her hands on one of their rifles, she’d be okay.

“Peg? Oh, Peg! Come out, lovey. We got a surprise for ya.” Bruce stumbled as he approached. “Fuck.”

Darcy laughed. “Never could hold yer liquor, Bruce.”

“Shut up, Darcy. Stand aside. I’ll get her.”

Peg readied herself. The zipper on the tent flap made a zizzing sound as Bruce opened it. He shone a flashlight into the tent and spotlighted Peggy for a moment. She didn’t wait for him to reach in for her. She sprang at him, bowling him over. As she scrambled to get out of the tent, the springy tent poles went all over the place, making it harder for her to escape. Darcy grabbed her as she struggled with the tent, dragging her away from the shelter and his moaning brother.

Peg screamed for all she was worth. Terror made her fight like a madwoman. She kicked, flailed, punched at Darcy’s face. They wrestled until Bruce was back on his feet, at which time Bruce grabbed her from behind and held her arms. She couldn’t punch anymore, but she continued to kick with all her might.